The Shared Kitchen
by Redrose001
Summary: "Greg wondered what on earth he had done to upset his kitchen-mate when he had received a death glare the moment that he had stepped into the kitchen. The lanky but slightly plump bloke was in the middle of labelling a box of tea bags when he had walked into the kitchen." Mycroft and Greg are in university together and are in student accommodation, and share a kitchen.
1. Chapter 1

September 1st

Greg knew that he didn't belong in university the minute that he arrived into the shared kitchen and met the person who he was sharing the area with for the next year.

Greg knew that it was just luck that he managed to scrape through his A-Levels through night classes and he managed to get into university, as to why would a working-class boy from a council estate manage to get into a posh uni? The people on admissions were probably feeling very generous when they looked at his UCAS form, they probably saw his address and felt pity for him. It was a miracle that he managed to get into university in the first place, he didn't even plan on even applying in the first place, his grandmother convinced him to apply and to continue with his night classes even though he wanted to give up so many times.

Greg wondered what on earth he had done to upset his kitchen-mate when he had received a death glare the moment that he had stepped into the kitchen. The lanky but slightly plump bloke was in the middle of labelling a box of tea bags when he had walked into the kitchen. Greg only had to look at him for a second and he could just tell that he was public schooled, he wouldn't be surprised if he was from Eton or Hogwarts, or some other establishment that needed at least a few thousand pounds in the bank for a term. He almost dressed like a librarian with that jumper he had on. Greg just knew that they weren't going to get one from the moment that he had come into the kitchen. The bloke sent a glare towards him and sighed, before he moved his eyes back to his label maker, his face slightly scrunched up with his nose upturned- almost like he was smelling something awful. He almost looked like his auntie' s fat white Persian, Napoleon with his face like that, or that he had run face-first into a glass window. Greg did his best to suppress his laughter by clearing his throat, but it seemed impossible, especially since he had never met anyone who would label teabags, it was the most pretentious thing that he had ever come across.

"How is it going, mate? I'm Greg," he said in the attempt to introduce himself.

"Mycroft Holmes," said the other a sharp tone, thrusting his hand into Greg's direction. He screwed up his face again, at the word 'mate,' Greg did feel half tempted to call it him again, just to be petty.

Greg shook his hand and he noticed how Mycroft quickly pulled his hand away, and he seemed to wipe it on his trousers, almost as if he was disgusted at having to touch someone who was from a council estate. It was probably the first time Mycroft had ever been in contact with someone who went to a state school.

"I'm not that filthy, I did have a shower this morning before the drive up here," Greg commented, as he leaned on the counter. "I take it that you came up here this morning as well, I would have been here a bit earlier, I got into a fight with the parking here." As much as he wanted to annoy Mycroft, as he did seem like a bit of a prick, he did try and be civil, in the attempt to be the better man. Mycroft did look like the type to get picked on at school, and he did hear some horror stories from public schools from a boy from the council estate, who managed to get a scholarship into one in the county. He didn't want to cause him too much grief, but it did seem impossible, especially since the bloke labelled his teabags. He wouldn't be surprised if Mycroft even counted them, just to make sure that no one would pinch them.

"I arrived last night, I did not get the chance to unpack as it was late, my train was delayed," Mycroft replied curtly.

"It is a nice day to arrive, I'm happy that it is not raining," Greg murmured before he cursed himself for his attempt at conversation. He never understood that the stereotype, the one where British people only seemed to talk about the weather until now. It just seemed like the least un-offensive topic that he could think of. "I was going to have a walk around the place later on, especially since the weather is nice. I did see a few people outside for freshers."

"It was raining last night," Mycroft attempted at conversation, but he just seemed uncomfortable at having to talk.

There probably wasn't an easy way to really make conversation with a stranger who was a mile up the class ladder than you and would be sharing a kitchen with. Strangers didn't share kitchen, couples and families shared kitchens. There was meant to be three other students who were meant to be sharing a kitchen with them, two of them had dropped out last minute and the other had managed to move into alternative accommodation the day before. They were in the smallest block of student accommodation, there two medical students who were on the floor below them, they did have their own kitchen on their floor. One of them did seem nice, John Watson. He did help Greg carry his bags into the building from his car and they did make plans to get a pint, he hadn't come across the other bloke, but he would be joining them in the pub.

"Tea!" Greg exclaimed in the attempt for conversation when it had struck him. Tea was the perfect ice breaker, it was something that all people of all social standing could agree on. "Why don't you put the kettle on and we can have some tea? You probably need a break from unpacking."

Mycroft nodded stiffly before he asked Greg how he took his before he pulled a face at the number of sugars Greg asked for. Greg did back paddle a little and mentioned that he took sweeteners, in the attempt to make it more socially acceptable.

Mycroft had taken a nice cup for himself, and Greg did notice that his name was written on the bottom of it. It was a posh looking mug, compared to the washed-out mug that was pulled out from the cupboard, which would have been from the previous tenants, which said 'sex kitten,' on the front. Mycroft did look disgusted at the mug but continued to make tea with it anyway.

"I've been invited to the pub with some of the medical students if you feel like going?" Greg said, as he stared at his tea and stuck in an extra sugar into it.

"No, thank you," Mycroft murmured as he looked down on his mug. "I should be unpacking and preparing for classes."

"If it isn't your thing, that's alright," Greg reassured. "It is probably going to be a bit mental, especially with all of the students. If you do change your mind, the offer is always there."

"Thank you," Mycroft nodded and he attempted to give a slight smile, even if it did seem a bit forced. "I should unpack."

"Me too, but I've been putting it off a little," Greg commented. "I'll probably have everything unpacked by the Christmas holidays. I've got most of my stuff in a few old crisp boxes and bin bags, it's probably better to put my clothes away before someone thinks it is the rubbish and throws it out. "

It was a small attempt of a joke, it would hardly get a laugh. He was so surprised when Mycroft's lip seemed to quirk a little, and the almost constant disgusted look on his face seemed to leave his face. Greg took pride in this. It was a small victory. He was going to melt icy exterior of Mycroft eventually, even if it did take the whole of the year.

"I'll see you later?" Greg asked when Mycroft made his way out of the kitchen. "The offer for drinks is always going to be there, if not, take away is always standing."

Mycroft didn't say anything but he did nod his head, and he twisted his mouth in an odd way. It was almost a smile, it didn't seem to reach his eyes though. Greg almost felt half tempted to ask him if everything was alright, he didn't say anything though. He didn't know if he was crossing the line between strangers and friends too soon. Greg did what he always did, he didn't say anything and just nodded.

Mycroft didn't want to be in student accommodation. He didn't even particularly want to be in university in London, but needs made him reject his Cambridge offer. He would easily be able to transfer, especially with his academic performance, or he would have wait until his graduate degree, depending on the situation and if it was still there after three years of study. Mycroft was positive that the situation would last longer than an undergraduate degree, it would probably solve itself out or it would be solved with intervention and perhaps some force, either real or divine.

Student accommodation was never his first choice, but it was too late to get an individual student flat, especially with his budget or lack of it. The current student accommodation was the most suitable, even if Gregory did seem to be of common stock and he did seem to enjoy being social. He did seem pleasant enough and he did seem to have a few brain cells to be able to get a place in a high ranking university, despite his background. It was something that Mycroft could respect even though Greg looked like he rolled out of bed and he did have rips in his jeans and a pierced ear, which was probably the result of a drunken night out.

Mycroft hated his bedroom, he disliked the colour of the walls, which were a horrible beige colour and clashed terribly with the grey carpeting. He could only focus on the large stain which was on the ceiling, it was almost annoying how it didn't fit in with the colour of the wall and how it wasn't symmetrical. It almost looked like a stain from a smoothie or a drink of some sort. He was meant to be focusing on his studies or unpacking his belongings but was instead lying on the bed staring at the stain. It almost felt like the His room left like a prison cell with the brick wall and the beige paint. He did consider placing a poster or a canvas on the wall, he had the freedom to do so now, and it was what students did. He did almost feel tempted to have a normal student experience, he would treat it like a social experiment. He had interacted with other students in boarding school, but he had barely interacted with people his own age in the real world. The closest interaction with someone his own age was at his internship at the office, and that was Anthea, who barely seemed intrested in speaking to him and was more focused on his phone. She didn't bother to learn his name and kept calling him 'Mike.' He had attempted to correct her after the first few times but then he gave up, especially when he realised that he had no power in the office and he was essentially the tea boy and he did the photocopying.

His life was really not meant to go like this. It honestly couldn't get any worse.

He sighed when he heard a knocking on his door, and he looked up to find Greg standing there. He was considerably more dressed up than he was before, having swapped his torn and messy clothing for a nice shirt and leather jacket. He almost looked like an actor from one of those films that he enjoyed from the fifties. Greg was so effortlessly handsome, it was almost annoying, especially since he couldn't get rid of those dreadful last ten pounds and he somewhat resembled an old potato that had sprouted, that was the last thing that Sherlock said to him before he had gotten onto the train.

Mycroft didn't say that or comment on his appearance. He would never do that. It was so unprofessional, and Greg was a complete stranger, and he had barely spoken to him for ten minutes and they had that one cup of tea. It barely gave him the grounds to make comment.

"Gregory," Mycroft nodded, as he tried to remove the imaginary wrinkles from his pressed trousers.

"I was just about to head out..." Greg trailed off, running a hand through his hair. "I know that it isn't your thing and you are probably busy, but the offer is still there."

"I need to pick my classes and get some books from the library," Mycroft murmured. "I do need to phone my brother, he is probably going to worry about me."

Greg let out an understanding nod and ran this hand through his hair. "I need to do that with my mum, I've already phoned her three times today and she is still sending me texts every hour about the hour. Normally it is just her and me in the flat, so I guess, me going away is tough on her. "

Greg seemed to hover around the door for several more moment, almost like he was wanting to say something else to him. Mycroft wasn't sure if this was an attempt to make friends or to make one last effort to convince him to go out. He had to admire his persistence with this, no one had been so intrested asking him to go to the pub, or to anything really. Mycroft almost felt half tempted to put on his jacket and go to the pub, Greg did seem alright, even though Mycroft could tell that he was messy and he was slightly loud- which came into the territory of being working class, well that is what Mycroft had seen on television and his encounters with people in the streets. He did feel drawn to Greg for some reason, but he couldn't place a finger on it, it was probably due to his curiosity about the working class. He did feel tempted to ask questions about if the things on those tv shows were true and about council housing, but he knew that it was probably offensive and patronising.

"You should not allow me to keep you back from the pub," Mycroft murmured, even though a part of him was desperately wanting to go to a pub, he hadn't experienced a pub before.

"Right, " Greg said, as he slapped his shoulder in a friendly gesture. "Don't go and study too hard, I'll be out too late, I've got a morning shift. I'm at the Fox, it is just down the road if you change your mind. "

He hovered around for a minute extra before he closed the door, and Mycroft was alone in his prison cell of a room. Mycroft let out a sigh before he cracked open his sociology textbook ad he stared at it for ten minutes and he struggled to focus on it before he closed it.

He didn't know what had come over him, but he found himself placing a coat on and heading down to the pub. He placed it down to his curiosity about normal people and the word of the pub. He could afford to act like a normal student for the first day of univeristy, he was already ahead with his reading anyway.

The pub just seemed like a whole new world for Mycroft, and he wasn't expecting it to be as loud or as full of goldfish. He had watched a few soap operas and documentaries which had pubs in, but he wasn't expecting to ever be in one, he had always assumed that they were rather common and ordinary. He still couldn't believe that he was in a pub, the only drinking establishments that he had been in was a work function, which people were in suits and they were talking about politics. Mycroft had little idea about conversation topics that he was meat to be talking about in the pub, he doubted that Greg would be wanting to talk about economics or politics. Perhaps he should have researched this before he went to the pub. It was just a bad idea to go out, and it was a sign that he should return to his accommodation. He caught a glimpse of people from the window of the pub, and they looked so much better than him, while he looked like a geography teacher compared to muscular and well-dressed people.

Mycroft took a cigarette to calm his nerves. He knew that smoking was awful, but all of the popular boys in school did it and while it was an awfully common habit, it did calm his nerves and it did provide some common ground between him and the boys who mocked him, and it did grant him some level of acceptance when he joined them by the smoking spot in the old cricket pavilion.

"Surprised to see you here," Greg's voice brought him out of his thoughts, and Mycroft immediately tried to hide his cigarette, he did want to make a good impression. "I thought that the pub wasn't your thing. "

"I do not think it is 'my thing' after all, " Mycroft replied with a shrug. "I forgot my wallet," that seemed like a suitable excuse.

"I could buy you a drink, I really don't mind," Greg offered, "It seems like a shame that you've walked down the road and you are going without a drink."

Mycroft tried to insist that he was fine but he felt himself getting guided into the pub by Greg, and to the bar before he could say anything.

"What do you drink?" Greg said loudly, trying to get heard over the chatter of the other students.

Mycroft had no idea, he never forayed into underage drinking, due to not being 'cool,' enough to participate in it when it happened at school, and he had the occasional glass of wine with his parents, but he wasn't too fond of the wine that his parents had. "Soda water and lime is fine," He replied, it was better to stay sober for this experience. He wanted to take note of this experience.

Greg nodded before ordering two pints and he passed one to Mycroft, 'for later,' and a bowl of chips for himself, before he guided Mycroft into a beer garden, which was considerably quieter than the pub.

"You've never been to a pub before," Greg stated, pointing a finger in Mycroft's direction and he had an amused grin on his face.

"No, I've been plenty of pubs," Mycroft replied quickly, he was not wanting to lose any respect or any reputation for being 'cool,' that he might have had with Greg. He tried to take a sip of his pint, before pulling a face. He wasn't a fan of beer, he had discovered.

"So do they not do underage drinking in Hogwarts then?" Greg teased.

"There was underage drinking in school, I just didn't participate in it,' Mycroft murmured as he tried to work on his pint, but it just seemed worse at the second attempt.

"You don't have to drink that if you don't like it," Greg commented before pushing the bowl of chips into Mycroft's direction. "It is alright that you've never been to a pub before, I'm not exactly going to make fun of you because of that."

"I was just more focused on getting good grades for univeristy than being social," Mycroft murmured. It was the perfect excuse for not being social, and having the closet thing to a friend at school was the Latin master.

"At least you are going out now," Greg shrugged. "I wish that I was like you and actually had my head down in school, I left early and I didn't finish off my A-levels until a few months ago, and I did them part-time at night classes with a bunch of oldies, my mum was doing her one in English at the same time as me. It is so embarrassing to have your mum in a class and she got better marks than me."

Mycroft nodded, and he wasn't too sure what he was meant to say in a pub. He tried to go over the basic questions that he could ask.

"So what are you studying them?" Greg suddenly asked, putting Mycroft out of his misery as he tried to think of a good question.

"History, politics, and economics, " Mycroft said with a small smile.

It was a new degree with the university, and being able to choose history modules was a little bit of rebellion for him, especially as his parents told him that it was useless, but it was his favourite class in school and he had always done well with it. He had considered taking his rebellion a little bit further and joining a drama club, he did like the arts but he had been forced to take up more suitable pursuits such as the piano and fencing at school and on weekends.

"I'm somehow doing sociology and politics, but I'm thinking that I am wanting to switch over to criminology, " Greg said through a mouthful of chips. " I'm thinking that it might be better for me if I join the police, but criminology was full up when I was going through clearing."

"I should be easy enough to switch courses," Mycroft said. "At least, I will know someone in the morning seminars for politics on Monday mornings."

Greg let out a groan, "I can't be bothered with morning lecturers, it was half the reason that I left school early, but then I had to wake up early for a news round. I'll be awake anyway, I'm working most mornings. I'd be out all night if I could but I'm going to call it after ten I think. I'm the most boring student ever!"

"I might beat you to that one, "Mycroft replied. "At least you were not studying on your first day here."

"I'm glad that you did go to the pub, Myc," Greg commented. " I was meant to be going with John, but he ended up getting dragged away by some girl on his course. I can't believe that he is potentially getting one on his bed frame on the first day, lucky bastard."

Mycroft frowned at the context and briefly wondered if this was something that normal people did all the time in the world of the pub. He did scan the garden to see if there was anyone good looking, but nothing caught his eye. The pub was mostly full of women and he had decided that when he was fifteen that they were not his area, once he had developed a bit of a fancy for the estate manager's son, who was tall, tanned and French.

It never seemed to bother him that he liked men, it just seemed like an uninteresting thing about him, especially when he would rather be asked about his academic interests, and it wasn't like anyone would be interested in him anyway. He was uncomfortable about other people knowing that he liked men, even the notion of it was a cause of bullying at school and he didn't want to repeat it.

"Scoping out the scene?" Greg teased before he nodded in the direction of a red head. " Never thought that you would be one to do that."

"I'm not, " Mycroft replied quickly, before showing a few chips in his mouth so he didn't have to talk anymore.

"Who's caught your eye then? Which girl do you like ? The redhead?" Greg asked as he downed off his pint before starting on Mycroft's discarded one. "Fancy another drink?"

"I'm fine," Mycroft said in response to the two questions. "The blond with glasses does seem intrested in you though, much more than the redhead."

It seemed like the best way to brush the question away. In his own way, he was doing Greg a favour and helping him 'get one on the bedframe, ' as Greg had put it. It was probably something that normal people did. Acting as a navigator for a potential spouse for friends, a wingman. Mycroft heard that term in a film and he assumed that he'd be doing that for Greg for the year.

It seemed like such a bad idea to push Greg in the direction of another girl, but it did avoid any awkward conversations, about who he liked. The last time that he told someone that he liked men, it led to his mother crying and not speaking to him, it did make Christmas dinner awkward, especially since they were doing the dinner for the show as the neighbours were there. His father had been somewhat supportive and was still in regular contact, but he said that it was a phase from being in an all boys school and things would change when he was in more contact with females.

Greg nodded before he clapped Mycroft on the shoulder before he made his way to the girl with the glasses.

Mycroft let out a sigh before he put on his coat and he left the pub, and he wondered if he had become an accidental wingman, in the attempt to avoid an awkward conversation. The world of the pub was clearly not for him and he decided not to venture out there again. It was best for him not to.


	2. Chapter 2

_Seventh of September_

Mycroft realised that the transition to university was a lot more difficult than he had expected. He knew that it wasn't going to be easy, but he thought that it would be manageable, but it just seemed to be harder than he planned. He never expected the feeling of homesickness and he didn't know how to make it go away or how to prevent it. He had some when he was in boarding school, but his mother did at least write to him and did phone every week, this time he had no one. He had tried to telephone his brother a few times in the space of the week to 'check-up' on him for an excuse to have someone to talk from home. Sherlock was never interested in contacting him, but when he did, it was to complain about the cleaners or their parents, and how he was stuck with _idiots all_ day. Sherlock had been rather dismissive each time he phoned, the phone calls would last a minute or so at the most, and they were mostly Sherlock telling him to 'piss off', as he was experimenting with something.

Being in student accommodation was trying, especially as walls were thin and it was freshers week, and people would be stumbling around the halls at three in the morning or were being excessively loud, especially with the people who they brought with them. Mycroft had invested in earplugs on the second day of moving to student accommodation, he did want to study after all. It had been difficult to sleep in a room that was not his, and he was going to make use of the sleepless nights. He had barely ventured into the kitchen, other to use the kettle, but Greg always seemed to be there. He had managed to hide his lack of cooking ability with sandwiches and the occasional takeaway. He had his first encounter with a microwave and he could not figure it out for the life of him, they never had one at home, and meals were always prepared for him by the cook. He had been reluctant to try food from the canteen, as students were the ones to prepare his food and he didn't want to be too social. He had barely left his room other than going to the kitchen or the library, and occasionally the gym. He had been tempted to join the drama club especially as they were doing Macbeth for the first production. Mycroft realised that he would have to be thin and good looking to join the club, and he was neither of those things, Perhaps he could join in the next semester, once he lost those troublesome ten pounds that never seemed to leave him.

It felt stupid that he was struggling, and classes hadn't even begun yet. Greg seemed to be doing fine and he had embraced student life. Mycroft didn't see him too much, especially as Greg worked a couple of jobs, but it didn't stop him bringing cups of tea around to his room with biscuits just about almost every day or occasionally trying to get him to leave his books to the side and watch football with the medical students. He never did take him up on his offer, he assumed that other students wouldn't like him that much and that Greg had just invited him out of pity. It would only be a matter of time until Greg would get fed up with him anyway, perhaps when he got himself a girlfriend.

Mycroft sighed before he moved away from his desk and moved to his bed, just to look a the smoothie stain which was above his head. He checked his phone to see if there were any missed calls from his brother or any messages from his parents, but there was nothing. Mycroft let out a sigh before he started to count the ceiling tiles and debated if he was going to get a poster on his wall. He had unpacked, but his room did feel a bit like a jail cell and had no personalisation to it. He had caught a glimpse of Greg's room when he left the door open. His room was a bit of a mess with clothes on the floor and he had a few band posters on the walls and ones with girls on motorbikes. There were a few pieces of football memorabilia and family photos, he almost felt envious of Greg, he seemed to have a happy home life and he had settled in really easily.

Mycroft lay in bed for twelve minutes before he decided that he needed tea, it seemed like the only thing to make him feel better. There was a chance that he would see Greg in the kitchen, and he could listen to Greg's aimless chatter for a while. That always did seem to improve his mood. It felt like a bit of struggle to get out of bed and to walk to the kitchen, but he did feel himself cheer up a little when he saw Greg in the kitchen doing his dishes.

"How's it going, Myc?" Greg said cheerfully.

He was making lunch for himself, Mycroft didn't even know that it was lunchtime, he had missed breakfast and he had missed dinner the night before. He should probably eat something, he had been a bit forgetful about eating recently and it seemed to do him a favour as his trousers felt a little bit lose.

Mycroft just nodded in agreement before he switched on the kettle for himself, he did offer to make Greg a drink as it was the polite thing to do. He had needed to go food shopping for himself, but he could never find the time or the motivation to go to a supermarket. He would have to go eventually, he did need to get more tea bags.

"Have you been up to much?" Greg asked, "You've been hauled up in that room for so long, that I was almost convinced that you had a girl in there."

Mycroft faked a chuckle as it just seemed to be the right thing to do. "I've just been a bit busy with course work."

It was believable, Greg would probably laugh at him for confessing that he was feeling homesick, or how he was just wanting to go back to London.

Greg nodded before pushing a bowl of pasta in his direction. "You should eat this, you look a bit rough and I doubt that you've barely eaten. I never see you have more than sandwiches and tea."

"I'm not much of a cook, " Mycroft quietly confessed and he wished for nothing more than to be in his room.

"You should go to the canteen then, the food isn't that bad," Greg said, as he sat down next to him with his own bowl. "You just can't have tea all the time, I know that it is difficult not having your mum to cook for you. "

"My mum has never cooked for me," Mycroft said bitterly, as he pushed his food around his bowl. He didn't feel too hungry but he took a few bites for Greg.

"Do you have a cook then? Posh people have those, don't they?" Greg asked, "You probably would have had them in Hogwarts as well?"

"I didn't go to Hogwarts. I didn't even go to Eton or Harrow, it was just a small boarding school that was two hours away from where I am from, I wanted to be closer to my brother."

Greg didn't say anything for a few minutes and he was focused on eating his pasta. Mycroft just wished that he was back in bed, he knew that Greg was going to ask him something and possibly start an awkward conversation. Greg had a habit of initiating them over the last couple of days, he knew that it was an attempt to be nice, but he still could not figure out for the life of him why Greg was doing it. He was rather good at deducing people, but he struggled with Greg for some reason. He could tell the obvious things about him just from the way he looked, but that was it. It was the first time that it had really happened.

"You look like you are going to say something and I'm not going to like the conversation, " Mycroft murmured as he stirred the pasta around the bowl, picking out the bits of vegetables. He was rather impressed with how much vegetables were in it, especially as it was a student meal and students were supposed to live off take away and kebabs.

"I was just wondering if you were alright?" Greg asked a look of concern was over his face, it looked unnatural, especially as Greg had either a grin or a content expression on his face the majority of the time. He had never come across a person who smiled that much at him before. It was almost frighting as Mycroft never knew what he had done or why Greg looked happy to speak to him.

"I'm fine, " Mycroft replied briskly. "What makes you think that something is wrong?"

"You've just not come out of your room that much and you've just been a bit quiet, plus you only seem to just eat sandwiches and tea," Greg listed off. "Look, mate, I'm trying not to pry too much, I'm just a friend but I'm worried. You should go and tell me if something is bothering you, we do share a kitchen."

Mycroft didn't say anything for a good five minutes, he wasn't sure when Greg decided to be his friend. They did go to the pub the one time and they did share a kitchen, but he did not know if that constituted a friendship. He never really had a friend before, he wasn't sure if he should be excitedly phoning home or the councillor from school about this new discovery. A feeling of dread settled in his stomach, he never had a friend before, but he wasn't sure about what he should be doing on his end of the friendship.

"Are you feeling homesick?" Greg asked suddenly through a mouthful of pasta. "I'm missing my mum and my nan, but it gets a bit easier if you don't think about home and keep yourself busy, or you just give them a ring. They would be happy to hear from you. "

Mycroft sighed and pushed the bowl of pasta away, even thinking about his brother left the pasta feeling like iron in the bottom of his stomach. It was probably unfair of him to go to university, especially when his brother was struggling with school and their parents being in France didn't help things, perhaps he should just go home. It wasn't fair for Sherlock to be in school all week before going home to an empty house for the weekend. They did have the housekeeper and the cook, but they would have a half-day on Saturday before they had their day off, plus Sherlock wasn't too fond of them and had little desire to talk to them.

"I'm probably just tired," Mycroft replied with a shrug before he stood up from the table. "I need to prepare for the seminar tomorrow morning. Thank you for lunch."

Greg gave him a nod and grabbed his arm for a second, giving it a brief squeeze and made a comment about where he would be if he needed to talk. Mycroft knew that he could never take him on that offer, he doubted that Greg would understand the situation and he didn't know why he was having this feeling, he had been accused of not having a heart or feelings so many times, that it was almost surprising that he was feeling something. He would have to make the effort to be happier, he didn't like having people worrying over him, even if they were his friend apparently.

"Penny for your thoughts, Greg?" John asked as he scraped fried egg off a plate before handing it to Greg before working on the large pile of plates from the breakfast service.

Greg shrugged before he put the plate on the dishwasher rack, before accepting the next few plates from John and closing the dishwasher. "I'm just a bit worried about Mycroft, " Greg said, raising his voice a little to get heard over the dishwasher.

The canteen was not the most glamorous of jobs, but people had to go and eat. It was a job and he could not complain about it, even if he did have to be there for six in the morning for breakfast service and he spent most of the morning washing plates and cleaning up after people. It wasn't as bad a lunch service, and his mum had told him that any job was a good job. He couldn't exactly breeze through college like everyone else in terms of money, and he did have to work two other jobs, the other in a supermarket, and he managed to get a few shifts in the student union. He did wonder when he was actually going to have time to study. He was going to make his mum proud of him though, even if he was going to need to have match sticks to keep his eyes open.

"Mycroft? That is the odd bloke in our building?" John asked, chucking a tea towel in Greg's direction.

"He's not odd, he is actually alright," Greg commented as he started to polish the cutlery for lunch service. "How are you doing? Are you not too homesick?"

"Nah, it is a relief to be away from my dad and my sister," John replied with a shrug. "Mike is a laugh and I've got enough to keep me occupied, I was staying with an aunt before I went to uni, and I'm already pretty settled in at this point."

"I know that it isn't my place to be worried about Mycroft, but the only time I really see him is when I'm bringing him tea," Greg said. "He is all public school and probably used to being at home, but I don't think he's phoned home or anything. He just seemed a bit down, being honest. I can't really do anything, I've only known him for a week or so."

"He doesn't seem to be that friendly anyway. I did try and chat to him, but he just looked uncomfortable," John commented with a sigh as the last of dishes on the counter were away. He removed the pair of Marigolds and the hair net. "I'm surprised that he is chatty with you."

"He is just a bit shy, he is probably at shock at having to talk to someone from a council estate," Greg let out a smile despite his concern. "He is actually alright, he makes me think of my brother. It really doesn't help that he is tall like him as well."

"Hopefully, he is feeling better later, are you still on for the football tonight?" John asked, throwing his apron into the box. "I'm needing to run off for rugby, thanks for covering me for again, mate."

"Of course I am!" Greg commented, "Just warning you that your team is going to get its arse kicked again, especially with how terrible the goalie is. He was basically asleep at the post!"

"Just for that you wanker, I'll make sure to break your ankle," John barked out, giving Greg a rude gesture.

"Hopefully you won't go around talking to your patients like that in years to come, Doctor Watson," Greg chuckled before he made a start polishing a never-ending pile of cutlery.

It had been a surprise to catch Mycroft in the kitchen when he had returned from work that morning. He was fiddling with a microwave, murmuring quietly to himself as he tried to figure out what buttons to press. It was almost like watching a ginger alien trying to figure out how a kitchen appliance worked. Greg did wonder if Mycroft actually knew how to use a microwave. He knew that politicians and celebrities were often out of touch with the real world and how ordinary people lived, but Mycroft went to a private school and apparently had a cook at home, which basically meant that he was out of touch with the real world.

"Are you needing help?" Greg asked, clearing his throat to hide the small amount of laughter that was threating to come out.

"The microwave isn't working," Mycroft commented with a disgusted sigh at the machine. "The machine is faulty and we need to have a new one."

"Have you used a microwave before?" Greg asked, he had often been curious about how really rich people lived, and he could imagine that if Mycroft had a microwave at home, he probably had a servant who used it for him.

"Don't be ridiculous, Gregory, " Mycroft glared at him but he did move to let Greg look at the machine.

"First of all, you have that to cook for half an hour, that is probably going to burn the kitchen down, " Greg commented as he readjusted the timer. "It also helps if you press the button to switch the machine on, there is a button that does say 'start'."

"I just could not find the button," Mycroft replied, he almost looked sheepish at his mistake.

Greg didn't say anything, it just seemed a bit wrong to tease him especially as he had just seemed to be upset over the last few days. He would be able to bring it up later just to embarrass him later.

"How are you doing?" Greg asked, trying to act casual as he knew that his concern for Mycroft the night before had probably made him feel uncomfortable. Especially when Mycroft didn't speak for five minutes after he called him a friend. He wondered what that was about, it was almost like a computer with a virus was trying to start up again in safe mode on an old Window's operating system.

"Other than the microwave, I'm fine," Mycroft replied as he fiddled with the cups in the cupboard, checking all of the bottoms to make sure that the ones with his initials were in the right spot. "We need to hurry up, we are going to be late for the seminar."

"It is the first day of class, the lecturer is going to be happy that we turned up," Greg murmured, watching Mycroft take his porridge out of the microwave when it was ready. Mycroft did remind him of his brother so much, they did seem to have similar temperaments. Greg pushed the thought of his brother down quickly, he didn't like to think about him that much.

"I'll be ready in a minute, I just need to get my notes," Greg murmured as he left the kitchen and went to his room. He sighed when he caught a glimpse of his brother in a photo, a feeling of regret washed over him, perhaps he should have phoned him a bit more when he was in university. He turned the photo around before switching out his work clothes for his course work and his laptop, he had taken extra notes in the night before, just so Mycroft would be impressed with his intelligence. as he was positive that Mycroft had considered him to be an idiot.

He couldn't blame Mycroft for thinking that, he was still amazed that he managed to get three A-levels a few weeks ago, especially as he was so convinced that he had failed them. His mum did manage to get A*'s but she always had a good brain on her, she just didn't have the right circumstances in life when she was in school the first time. She was meant to be starting that new job soon and it would help her get a bit of extra money for the flat, even if it was just a job in an office, he was proud of her when she phoned the other day to tell him the good news. She had been needing something like this for a while.

The seminar was full of idiots and Mycroft felt himself get bored after the first ten minutes, he could have missed the lecture and he would have still walked away with more information than having gone to the lecture. Greg seemed to be interested in the class, his face was scrunched up for most of it and his tongue was poking out as he was scribbling down his notes. It almost looked endearing in a way that Mycroft could not put his finger on.

"My brain feels fucking fried from that," Greg complained as they left the seminar and they were walking back to the accommodation. "I don't know how I am going to manage football tonight, John is meant to be breaking my ankle tonight, fancy coming along?"

Mycroft shook his head, he had little desire to watch or play football, he prefered cricket anyway, it was more suitable for a man of his class. "I doubt that I would have much time for club or anything of the sort, I will have too much to study."

"How are you going to make friends if you are in your room all the time?" Greg asked.

"I have you, "Mycroft replied dismissively. "I've got one friend, it is more than what I had before."

"I still need to drag you out to the pub again," Greg said with a small smile. "I've managed to get a few shifts in the union if you ever feel like going."

Mycroft shook his head, he had decided that the world of the pub wasn't for him the first and the only time that he tried. In universities, people like him only belonged in seminars, the library or perhaps debate or chess club, he had thought about joining one of those clubs, but he still had the notion for joining Macbeth, even if he was completely unsuitable for being on stage. It was a stupid desire if he had to be honest, it would probably be too much of a distraction from his studies anyway. He kept catching glimpses of signs for the show, it was almost like it was tempting him, even though it was ridiculous.

"God, I love this play," Greg commented, nodding his head in the direction of the poster for auditions. "I had to study this for my A-level and I thought that it was amazing, I've watched this show like five times, and the films are great."

Mycroft blinked in surprise, it was the least likely thing he could have heard from Greg's mouth, especially as Greg had been stumbling around the halls at three in the morning with the medical students in the last week and that he drank his tea out of a mug that said 'sex kitten,' on it. It was one of the mugs from the students who were there before, Greg had claimed the mug as he hadn't had the time or the money to buy a new one, and he didn't want to waste a mug.

"You like Shakespeare?" Mycroft asked, trying to hide the look of surprise from his face.

"I do have a Shakespeare collection in my room, I do like to drink but it doesn't mean I don't like literature," Greg said with a shrug. "Hamlett is bloody great, I do love A Midsummer Night's Dream, I had to do it for my GCSE in drama, I only took that class to impress a girl, I didn't end up with her though, she got a date with Oberon when I was Puck."

He almost felt tempted to ask Greg if he wanted to sign up for the show, Greg would have no problem getting a role, especially with how attractive he was. He would be able to accompany him to the shows and he would be able to watch the rehearsals in the name of moral support, it would just be as good as being in the show himself. There was no chance that he was going to be in the show anyway, but it would be nice to just watch the show get built up, step by step.

"You should go and sign up for it," Mycroft mentioned causally. "If it is a show that you really like, you should apply for it."

Greg didn't seem to need that much persuasion before he nodded and shrugged. "Alright, it could be fun, I could work my shifts at work around this and it will be good to be doing something different."

Mycroft tried to hide the smile from his face before he passed Greg a pen from his pocket, perhaps this might be the saving grace of university. Other than making a friend, Macbeth was the only thing that would stop his life feeling like a Shakespearian tragedy.


End file.
